


Child's Play

by Rollthedice



Category: Inception (2010)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollthedice/pseuds/Rollthedice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As children, Arthur runs away from home, seeking refuge in Tree House as far away as he can manage. What he doesn't expect is for his actions to spark a very unlikely friendship.</p><p>(Also sort of the reasoning behind their military rivalry)</p><p>WARNING: Mentions of Child Abuse in the first few lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child's Play

In a small house in Northern America one little boy would be found hiding under the table, his small hands clasped tightly over his ears. Around him lay drunken chaos, smashed glasses and broken plates. Just your typical Friday Night. A loud voice echoed from the other room, snaking it's way into the boy's hearing. Demands and accusations, pain and misery. It's not that he hadn't tried to fight back.

It's just he was tired of fighting.

Arthur crawled out from under the table, holding his breath as he tiptoed across the room, his nimble feet careful of the shards of glass that littered the floor.

“Where is that little twat?!” someone roared, the very tone freezing Arthur in his place  
“Honey...You've had enough..Just leave him alone” came a quick response, soft and caring. The very voice of compassion.  
“SHUT UP” More crashing, the sound of broken dreams and childhood torn at the seams. 

He was tired of hiding.

No one saw him go, slipped through the back door and over the fence in a matter of minutes. His old Thomas the Tank Engine backpack filled with enough food and drink to last him about a week. He had absolutely no idea where he was going, all he knew was that with every step away from his home he felt a little better. All he had to do now was follow the road.

Past the school, past the play park, past the pub where his father drinks. Past the boundaries of his knowledge until he found himself rather lost, towering buildings and bustling streets, bright lights and speeding cars. Still he walked, leaving the unknown city behind him for the quiet streets of yet another strange town.

-/-

He had been walking for exactly 6 days and 10 hours when he came to a stop next to a fence as night began to fall. Arthur had nowhere to go and no way to get back home. For all intents and purposes he was lost out here. Panic rose quickly in the five year old's chest, that was until he chose to turn around. Behind the white picket fence stood a rather tall tree and perched magnificently on its upper most branches resided a tree house. It's red roof settled comfortably on top of the sturdy wooden planks. Arthur barely noticed how his jaw was hanging wide open in what could only be described as awe, but all it took was a split second, and without even realising he was doing it he climbed over the fence and padded across the dewy grass. He rested a hesitant hand on the first rung of the ladder, looking around before taking a deep breath and climbing up. _Just for tonight_... He told himself over and over again as he reached the top, hauling himself into the spacious room.

The walls were painted blue and various toys were strewn across the floorboards. In the corner stood a small easel with a half finished painting of a dog. Arthur scooted into an empty corner and lay down, curling up into himself and resting his head on his backpack, his tired eyes fluttering shut.

He was tired of running.

 

Arthur awoke rather suddenly to a noise coming from the ground below him, the slight scuffling of feet that told him he was now essentially trapped in here, he was going to be found. Was this breaking and entering? Would he get arrested? He couldn't go to jail at five years old...What would his Mother say!?

And so it was that he sat shaking and clutching onto his backpack, fearing the worst as he heard the footsteps ascend the ladder. Arthur pulled the backpack to his chest, peeking out over the top of Thomas the Tank Engines head. _Any moment now..._

A few seconds later a boys head popped up, he looked older than Arthur by about three years. A moment later and his bright green eyes fell upon the strange little boy in the corner. They stared at each other for a brief moment, neither willing or daring to say anything, that was of course until the elder boy climbed fully into the tree house and sat opposite Arthur.

“Hello!” He said happily “Who are you? Are you here to play?”  
Arthur blinked at him, out of all the possibilities he had expected, he had not imagined this one.  
“My name is Daniel Christopher Eames” The elder continued when met with Arthur's silence “But you can call me Eames, I don't like my first name” He said, screwing up his face as he did so, as if the very mention of the name caused him bodily harm.  
“Why not?” Arthur said slowly, relaxing his grip on the backpack  
“It's just so _ordinary_ ” Eames replied with a pout “What's your name?”  
“Arthur..”

Eames clapped his hands at that, causing little Arthur to raise his eyebrow perplexedly.  
“You mean like the king?!” Eames said “King Arthur and the knights of the round table!”  
“Umm....” Was all Arthur could say, eyeing Eames with some confusion.

Eames took that moment to stand up, grinning merrily at the smaller boy. “Well Arthur, welcome to my fortress of playitude! Do you like it? My dad built it before he went away!”  
Arthur nodded slowly, rising to his feet and gingerly letting go of the backpack  
“You're a quiet one aren't you?” Eames asked, turning to regard Arthur, who could only stare at him in response. “That's okay!” Eames said “Mum says I talk enough for two people!”

“This is our holiday home” Eames informed him matter of factly, gesturing to the house outside. “Normally we live in England, but with my Dad away me and Mum take a lot more holidays!”  
“Where is your Dad?” Arthur asked curiously.  
“Hmm..” Eames shrugged. “I'm not sure. Mum won't tell me. She just says he's busy being a hero and will be home soon.” and Arthur couldn't miss the tone of pride in Eames's words  
“When did he leave?” He asked  
Eames screwed up his face in concentration, maths never was his strong point. “Um...Well he left just after Christmas”

Eames crossed the floorboards to where a display of paintings hung on the wall. “I painted these myself!” he said, puffing out his chest in pride. He pointed to the paining in the middle, depicting a tall brown haired man in camouflage “That's my Dad”  
“What is he wearing?”  
“I don't know...I think it's so he can hide”  
“From what?”  
“No idea” Eames shrugged, taking Arthur by the hand and dragging him around the Tree House, giving him the 'Grand Tour'

 

Once they had finished, every last single item in the room explained with some exciting back story they sat down in two small plastic chairs. Eames studied Arthur for a moment, phrasing his question in his head before asking it out loud.

“Why are you here?” He asked suddenly, causing Arthur to look up “Not that I don't want you here!” Eames added quickly “It's just...Where are your parents?”  
Arthur looked at him for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip “I ran away” he said quietly, so quietly in fact that Eames had to strain to hear him.

Arthur expected Eames to either ridicule him or kick him out, he was soon to learn however that this boy was full of surprises. Eames stood up rather suddenly, and with a flourish he gestured to the interior of the tree house “You can stay here!” He said “Honestly! And maybe when we go back to England you could come with us! There's a lot of-”

But Arthur didn't hear anything past that, his mind was to busy spinning and whirring furiously fast for a five year old. He had known this boy for a few hours and suddenly he was living in his tree house. His thoughts traced back to the previous night, when he had nowhere to go, no home to run to, no bed to crawl in at the end of the day. Now he had it all, and what's more....He had a friend to share it with.

-/-

The next few days passed in a blur, Eames fetched Arthur a sleeping bag from inside which they set up together. During the day they would play, constructing whole imaginary worlds and concepts, Eames even tried to draw Arthur at one point. For the first time in a long time Arthur found himself _truly_ happy. He laughed and he smiled just like the regular kid he always wanted to be.

He was tired of being different.

Arthur spent two weeks in that Tree House, Eames brought him food whenever he could. Whether they were meals of his own concoction (Chocolate sandwiches with Ice Cream and Chips) Or meals Arthur could only assume Mrs Eames made. They shared the lunches she made at the plastic table, the painting of Eames's dad smiling proudly down at them. Whilst they ate Eames showed Arthur a real picture of him, stood next to some strange big green vehicle Eames insisted was called a 'Thank' 

“He sends us letters” Eames explained “And we send him letters too, last time he asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up”  
“And what _do_ you want to be?” Arthur asked, moving aside his now empty plate.  
“I want to be a hero! Just like my Dad!”  
Arthur didn't say anything, mostly because he couldn't find the words to say how he wanted to be like Eames's dad too.

-/-

 

Arthur had known that this couldn't last forever, but that didn't stop his crestfallen expression when Eames told him he was going back to England in three days. He remained quiet as Eames complained aloud about how he didn't want to go home and leave Arthur behind.

“You'll come with me wont you? Wont you?” He asked, sitting down with an annoyed huff on the floorboards  
“I uh...Want to....But will I be able to?”  
“Of course! Maybe...Possibly”

A few moments of agonized silence passed before Eames took Arthur's hand and pulled him towards the exit, ignoring the younger boys initial protests as he started to climb down the ladder.

“Come on Arthur!” He called “Please?”  
With a sigh Arthur swung himself over, descending the ladder until his feet stood on solid ground once more. “Where are we going?”

But Eames didn't answer him, he just took his hand again and pulled him towards the house, pushing open the door and stepping inside all in a few seconds.

“Daniel honey have you packed yet?” a voice called from the inner rooms of the house, it's soft and gentle tone send a shiver of regret and guilt down Arthur's spine. He hoped his own mother was okay..

“I'm not going!” Eames yelled back, letting go of Arthur's hand to cross his arms defiantly as the womanly figure stepped into the hallway. Arthur blinked at her, looking between the two of them and noting how shockingly alike they were.

Her soft brown hair cascaded down her shoulders as she mimicked Eames's crossed arms, her full lips smiling kindly at her son. It may have just been the lighting in the hallway but her green eyes seemed to twinkle alarmingly like Eames's.

“Darling I'm sorry but the holiday's over now! Bronson's waiting for you back home-”  
“Can't he stay in the kennels for a few more days and we can stay here?”  
“Daniel” She said, in a tone that leaked finality “We're going”  
Eames pouted at her, this conversation had not gone his way at all, His mother turned to walk back to the kitchen when she paused, having only just noticed the smaller boy by her son's side.

“You didn't tell me you had a friend over!” She said brightly, offering Arthur a warm smile.  
“He's been here for two weeks mum” Eames said, rolling his eyes.  
The smile slowly slipped from her face, looking between the two boys “What?” She asked  
“He ran away from home so I told him he could live in my Tree House”  
Arthur was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second, wishing more than anything for the ground to swallow him up whole, though he noted that such an act would be quite traumatic for those watching and probably wasn't the best idea.

“Daniel go pack your things please” She said, not taking her eyes off Arthur  
“But Mum...!”  
“Daniel.” She repeated, Snapping her eyes back to her son for a moment.

Eames grumbled as he walked up the stairs, muttering to himself with each step. Once Mrs Eames heard the door close she turned her attention back to Arthur, who was now fidgeting nervously. With slow steps she crossed the hallway, kneeling down in front of him.

“What's your name sweetie?” She said softly  
“Arthur..” He replied, wishing he had followed Eames up the stairs.  
“Arthur...You need to go home, your parents are probably worried sick about you” Her tone was gentle, as if she were afraid he might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.  
He chose to give no reply to that, realizing that saying “No they aren't” Would just make him sound idiotic. 

Half an hour, a few phone calls and a bit of paperwork later, Arthur was sat in the leather seat of a white car. Some man who was dressed head to toe in blue was finishing talking to Mrs Eames. The radio of the car crackled occasionally, every so often a distorted voice would warble through, saying something about numbers and what sounded like street names.

 _Odd music._ He thought to himself, shifting uncomfortably. If he leaned out the window far enough he could make out a very Eames shaped figure throwing various items into a suitcase, blissfully unaware of what was happening downstairs. A second later and the blue uniformed man joined him in the car, smiling warmly at him. Arthur thinks he can recall the man telling him some funny story on the way home, but he can't remember, his five year old thoughts focused mainly on the friend he was leaving behind.

He was tired of pretending.

In 5 months Eames's dad would stop writing letters...  
He didn't return home that Christmas.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty years later a sharp knock came on Arthur's door. “Enter” He said, straightening up in his seat.  
“Second Lieutenant Miller?” The young man who opened the door called  
“Yes?”  
“Second Lieutenant Eames is here to see you.”  
Arthur nodded, cursing under his breath as the elder man walked in. They spoke only the necessary amount, each treating each other with such cold indifference it was unnerving.

No one quite understands their rivalry, over the years countless rumours have sparked up, ranging from anything between Cheating and Murder. _Lovely_.

What they will never quite understand is that it all started twenty years ago, when one boy thought the other left him, and one boy thought the other pushed him away.


End file.
